


The Bake Off Job

by BazinMousqueton



Category: Leverage, The Great British Bake Off RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Great British Bake Off Fusion, Case Fic, Christmas Special, Established OT3, Heist, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21976924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BazinMousqueton/pseuds/BazinMousqueton
Summary: A new client has a job that will lead to the team spending Christmas in Britain... in the Great British Bake Off tent.Chapter 1:Eliot is suspicious of their new client, Parker dreams of banknotes with non-sequential serial numbers, and Hardison tries to work out the mathematics of cousins.Chapter 2:Parker gets a present, Eliot has a disappointment, and Nate has A Plan.Chapter 3:Eliot goes full cowboy, Parker gains a new admirer, and Hardison lets it snow.Chapter 4:Lebkuchen! A heist! Terrible innuendos!Chapter 5:Parker does the switch, Hardison deals with the thermodynamic situation, and Eliot is quite a distraction.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer
Comments: 92
Kudos: 117





	1. The Client

**Author's Note:**

> Set during a slightly AU Season 5 where the OT3 are in an established relationship.

Eliot stalked across the brew pub, skirting Parker's oversized Christmas tree, carrying a platter of vegetable tempura. He kept his focus on the rich boy Sophie had brought in. Eliot didn't trust him. He wasn't carrying any weapons and he didn't move like a fighter, but something must be giving him that confidence. 

"You sure he don't have bodyguards?" he asked Hardison over the comms. 

The rich boy looked like a younger version of Hugh Grant in Love Actually -- he had the floppy hair, the harmless expression, and the ridiculous British accent -- and he was attempting to flirt with Parker. Parker, Eliot was pleased to see, hadn't noticed.

"Only a driver," Hardison said. 

Eliot halted, turning away so the rich boy wouldn't see his scowl. "Damn it, Hardison! The driver _is_ the bodyguard."

"Uh, excuse you. He's seventy years old and taking a nap."

"I reckon even a seventy-year-old could kick your skinny ass. Keep eyes on him."

Parker spotted Eliot, and then Eliot's plate. She bounced in her seat. 

"Eliot! What have you made?"

He lifted the plate high to keep it out of her grabbing hands, careful to avoid the tinsel garlands she'd draped from the beams. "Fried snacks," he said. Best not to tell her it was vegetables. "You'll like the dipping sauce. I used grated daikon to give it depth and slivers of chilli for heat."

He caught Sophie's gaze as he put the plate down. She saw the question in his eyes and smiled reassurance. 

"Charles and I are old friends," she said. "He's here about an inheritance."

"He's been robbed," Parker said, dipping a tempura babycorn and closing her eyes as she took a bite. Eliot swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He heard Hardison's intake of breath over the comms. 

"By a gold-digging nobody from Birmingham," the rich boy -- _Charles_ \-- said, oblivious. He wore a black blazer and a striped tie, and must be all of twenty-two.

"Birmingham, Alabama?" Eliot asked. Last time he'd been to Alabama he'd left in somewhat of a hurry. He wasn't in any rush to go back. 

Sophie laughed. "Birmingham, England." She waved her hand, dismissing him. He retreated a few paces, making sure he wasn't in Chuck's line of sight, and lurked. 

"Where's Nate?" he asked Hardison. Right on cue, the door swung open and Nate strode through, unbuttoning his jacket. He gave Eliot a smug glance as he slid into the seat next to Sophie. 

"How does he do that?" Eliot asked. 

Hardison made a shrugging noise. 

"Tell me about this lost inheritance," Nate said, steepling his fingers and looking intently at Chuck. Chuck sat back in his chair, taking the attention as his due. 

"My great-uncle Hal's Fabergé egg. One of the paired 1904 Camomile eggs."

"Camomile like the tea?" Sophie asked.

"Camomile like the flower," Chuck said. 

Nate nodded. "The national flower of Russia. The other Fabergé Camomile went missing from the Royal Collection in 1962, I believe, making your great-uncle's even more valuable."

"Exactly so."

"It was destroyed in a fire before you could inherit."

"You're remarkably well informed."

"I've seen the insurance investigator's file. There's no evidence of foul play."

Chuck snorted. "Don't you find it strange that the only item of value destroyed in the fire was my Fabergé egg?"

"Great-uncle Hal's Fabergé egg, strictly speaking, at that point," Sophie said. "The fire was a month before he died. Didn't the west wing of Keddlewick Hall also go up in smoke?"

"That's what insurance is for. The west wing was Victorian pastiche anyway; no-one mourned it."

Parker licked dipping sauce off her fingers and spoke up. "The insurers paid out?"

"That, sweetheart, is exactly the problem."

Parker frowned, baffled. Nate took over again.

"I assume the egg was named as a Specific Legacy in the will," he said. Chuck nodded agreement. Nate continued. "Once the egg no longer existed, Charles was no longer entitled to inherit anything."

"What about the insurance settlement?" Sophie asked.

"It became part of the residual estate," Nate said, "which great-uncle Hal bequeathed entirely to his wife."

"The gold-digger?" Parker said. 

"I've never met anyone who loves money as much as my great-aunt. She's younger than me, by the way. I wouldn't be surprised if she sleeps in a bed of fifty pound notes."

Parker smiled dreamily. "Non-sequential serial numbers are relaxing to have around."

Chuck gave her a terribly refined side-eye. He probably practised it on peasants back home.

"We need to steal that woman more cash," Hardison said over the comms.

"You said it, babe," Eliot said. "It is nearly Christmas, after all."

"How do you think we can help?" Nate said. "If you want to bankrupt yourself by challenging the will you'll need a lawyer. Our skills lie elsewhere."

"The Camomile egg is still intact."

"Are you certain?"

"Absolutely."

Parker clapped her hands. "We can steal it back!"

"That won't work," Nate said. 

Parker glared at him, affronted. "I can steal anything, from anywhere."

Sophie patted her on the shoulder, also glaring at Nate. "That's not what he means. Is it, Nate?"

Nate blinked at them, clearly unsure what he'd done wrong. "The insurance investigators sifted through the ashes and found the exact weight of minerals and precious metals as in the Camomile egg, proving it was destroyed in the fire. If we retrieve a Camomile egg it will be assumed to be the one missing from the Royal Collection."

"Which means third-cousin Lizzie would demand it," Chuck said, "and what Lizzie wants, Lizzie gets."

"Hold on," Hardison said over the comms. "Are we talking about the _Queen of England_ here?"

"Uh-huh," Sophie said. "Queen Elizabeth II is rather used to having her own way."

"We're still going to need to steal it," Parker said. 

Nate furrowed his brow in thought. He took the last tempura mushroom from Eliot's platter and popped it into his mouth. They waited while he ate.

"We need to prove incontrovertibly that great-aunt gold-digger has possession of the Camomile egg. That means tricking her into revealing it somewhere very public; somewhere it will be impossible to cover up."

Eliot stepped forward. He leant on the back of Parker's chair. She put her hand up to cover his. Her fingers were cool and slightly sticky.

"Good dipping sauce," she said. 

"Thank you, Parker." He looked at Nate. "Why--"

"Does it have sake in it?" Parker said. 

He smiled down at her. He loved Parker's enthusiasm for learning about food. "Mirin. It's like sake, but sweeter."

"Why…?" Nate asked. 

"So you don't have to add sugar," Eliot said. _Duh._

"That's not what Nate meant, man," Hardison said.

"Oh!" Eliot remembered what he'd been about to say: "Why would we do this?" He tilted his head at Chuck. " _Charles_ here may have been conned by his great-aunt, but he's not exactly short of a cent or two."

"I told you," Sophie said. "Charles is an old friend."

"Cousin," Chuck corrected. 

"Second-cousin," Sophie said. "Three times removed."

"Hold on," Hardison said again. "Does that make you fifth cousin to the _Queen of England_? Or is it first cousin? Is cousinhood additive or subtractive?"

Everyone ignored him. 

"Well?" Eliot asked. "Second-cousin Chuck ain't our regular sort of client, is all I'm saying."

Sophie stared meaningfully at Chuck. He straightened his tie, not catching her gaze. She kicked him under the table. 

"Ow!"

"Tell them, Charles."

He sighed, bottom lip out like a sulky child. "I'm going to donate it to a museum."

"The Keddlewick Museum," Sophie said. "It'll have to close unless it gets more visitors."

Hardison's keyboard clacked. "I've found the website," he said. "The highlight of the collection at the moment is a dibber donated by a farmer called Susan. A dibber, for those of you wondering, is a pointy stick."

"A Fabergé egg would certainly draw people in," Nate said. 

"The Museum is a local institution," Sophie said. "I'd hate to see it shut. And wouldn't it be lovely to spend Christmas in England? I'll take you all to the pantomime!"

"Does that mean I get to steal the Camomile egg?" Parker asked, beaming.

"Oh yes it does," Nate said.


	2. The Plan

Eliot washed and sharpened his knives, scrubbed his hands and stripped off his chef's whites. He could still smell garlic on his fingers and cooking oil in his hair; he decided to go straight to the briefing anyway. Hardison had been making impatient comments over the comms throughout the last two sauces. 

"You smell of cooking," Parker said the moment he walked into the office. "I like it."

He sat next to her and she snuggled into his side. He dropped a kiss onto the top of her head, hiding his smile in the softness of her hair, glad he hadn't taken a shower. Sophie, long legs curled under her, didn't look up from the magazine she was paging through. 

"You took your time," Hardison said, pacing up and down in front of the screens. Nate was nowhere to be seen, possibly accounting for Hardison's frustration. "Couldn't your knives have waited until tomorrow?"

Parker sat upright and sucked in a breath in anticipation of Eliot's explosion. Her eyes were bright.

"No, Hardison," Eliot said, deepening his voice to a growl to oblige her. "My knives could _not_ have waited until tomorrow. I need them to be sharp _at all times_. Do I question how you do your--" he flapped his hand dismissively "--geek things?"

"All the time," Hardison said, folding his arms over his chest. "And those are your onion knives, not your keeping-us-safe knives."

"A knife's a knife. It's all about context--"

"What do we know?" Nate said, strolling in wearing a black hat. Melting snowflakes glittered on its brim. 

Eliot gave up the fight. Hardison settled and began the briefing. He'd found photos, newspaper articles and financial records. It seemed great-aunt gold-digger had raven-black hair, an extensive collection of fancy dresses, and an even more extensive collection of Swiss bank accounts. The birth date on her passport showed she was only twenty-one. She kept her valuables at Marley's Bank in London.

"Marley's Bank?" Parker asked, putting her hands flat on the counter and leaning forward onto them. She sounded excited. Eliot glanced at Hardison to see if he knew why. He did: he had the expression he got when he'd built something special for one of them. He clicked to a schematic.

"A Guardian T-841 Security System!" Parker said. 

Hardison zoomed in. "Look at the motion detectors."

"Seven digital receptors!" Parker pushed herself up into a handstand, then into a handspring that took her across the room and into Hardison's arms. "Did Santa pick this out for me?"

"He sure did," Hardison said, holding her tight. 

"What do you have that we can use?" Nate said. "We need the mark to reveal herself in public."

"About that," Hardison said, disentangling himself from Parker. "I found an audition tape. You maybe wanna look away. It's disturbing."

"What sort of audition?" Sophie asked. "Surely not porn?"

"Worse," Hardison said, pressing play.

A pastel-decorated kitchen, hung with triangular British flags, filled the screen. The light instrumental soundtrack managed to be both jaunty and urgent. Great-aunt gold-digger wore a flour-smeared apron and wielded a cleaver to chop pecans. Nut shards ricocheted across the set. Eliot winced. 

"She's going to lose her thumb."

Sophie hid her eyes and watched from between her fingers. The video cut to great-aunt gold-digger taking a cake out of the oven. It had burnt-black edges and sagged in the middle. She simpered at the camera. Nate's jaw dropped.

"Enough!" Eliot said. "Switch it off."

Hardison pressed pause, freezing the moment great-aunt gold-digger attempted to turn her cake out of the pan and discovered it had stuck to the bottom.

"What is this?" Nate said. 

"It's the Great British Bake Off," Sophie said. _Of course_ , her tone added. 

"The Great British what now?" Eliot asked.

"It's a baking competition."

Eliot shrugged, waiting for more information.

"It's on telly every summer. Amateur bakers compete to make the best bread, biscuits and cakes in a tent hung with bunting."

"Bunting?" Eliot asked.

"The little flags," Sophie said, sketching a triangle in the air.

"What do they win?" Parker asked. 

"A trophy."

Parker frowned. "Not money? Or diamonds? Why do they do it?"

Sophie looked shocked at the question. "It's the _Great British Bake Off!_ It's a national obsession, almost on the level of drinking tea and queuing politely."

"So a lot of people watch it?" Nate asked.

"Everyone watches it."

"And great-aunt gold-digger's ambition is to be a contestant? Interesting. Shame it's in the summer. The museum won't survive that long."

Eliot glanced at Hardison, whose built-something-special expression was back. Hardison paused, drawing out the moment. Parker thumped him. 

"Tell us!"

"Ow!" He rubbed his biceps. "There's a Christmas Special, y'all. Filming next week."

"We can work with this," Nate said. "First, you'll need to get us onto the set."

"Way ahead of you, man," Hardison said. The team focused on him as he ran through aliases and travel plans. 

"Nate, you're the guest judge, recruited at short notice to replace one, uh, Paul Hollywood. Mr Hollywood has found himself otherwise engaged after his wife found out something he wanted to keep secret. His role will be taken by internationally renowned Konditor Meister Günther Benz. Notice that umlaut." He pointed his laser pointer at the screen, proud. "Very German, the umlaut."

"Ich bin Günther Benz," Nate said, trying out the accent. 

" _Ich_ ," Sophie corrected. "Not _ish. Ich_ bin."

"Get on with it," Eliot said, rubbing his hands together. He was going to enjoy this con. He'd win that baking trophy, no trouble, and get the Camomile egg back to Chuck and his small-town museum.

"I've got Sophie into the production crew," Hardison said.

Sophie pouted. "I'm behind the camera?" 

"We need your acting skills elsewhere," Nate said. "This is a Spanish Turk Shuffle."

"A Spanish Turk?" Sophie said, thoughtful. "That means--"

"I'll be the contestant, right?" Eliot said. Sophie shook her head.

"Oh," Hardison said, his face falling. "My dude, I'm sorry. We need you in the van."

" _In the van?_ " Eliot shouted. "In the van is your job."

"Not this time. Parker and I are the contestants."

Eliot clenched his fists tightly to stop himself from punching something. His nails dug into his palms. "What do you know about baking?"

"That's why we need you in the van."

"That's why you need me in the tent!"

Sophie stepped in, transparently trying to distract them. 

"You realise all the contestants on the Bake Off have a role?" 

"Like on the team?" Parker said. 

"Exactly like on the team," Sophie said. "Except Hardison won't be the hacker, he'll be…" she paused to appraise him, looking him up and down and gesturing for him to turn round before nodding. "He'll be the cute gay man who is not-so-secretly desperate to win. The hosts will expect him to be over-intense about his sourdough starter and will make lots of jokes about his buns."

"Hey," Hardison said, glaring over his shoulder. "My buns ain't nobody's business but my own."

"And mine," Parker said. 

"And mine," Eliot added, allowing Sophie's distraction to succeed. Nate rolled his eyes.

"What about me?" Parker said. "Do I get a soredough starter?"

" _Sourdough_ ," Eliot said. 

"You're the pretty blonde," Sophie said. 

Parker held her hands up. "No way. I suck at being the pretty blonde. That's Eliot's job."

Eliot felt his cheeks burning. "I ain't blond, darlin'."

"Blond-ish," Hardison said. "You're certainly pretty."

Eliot shot him a Look that should have had him running for cover.

"Yeah, well, my prettiness is gonna be hidden in _the van_." 

"What does the pretty blonde do?" Parker asked.

"The male judge will flirt with you--" Sophie said. 

"Oh no he won't," Nate said.

"--and you'll need to look tearful when a bake goes wrong."

"Can't I be the competent one?"

Sophie shook her head. "The competent one on Bake Off is a grey-haired white woman who's been winning Best Victoria Sponge at the Women's Institute cake competition in her village for three generations."

"Do they have witches in England?" Parker asked, wearing her serious face.

"Nah, babe," Eliot said. "They just measure time a little differently, is all."

"Get used to it," Sophie said. "You're spending Christmas in the land of Dickens this year."

"What's a Spanish Turk Shuffle?" Hardison asked.

Nate didn't answer. He heaved himself out of his chair and waited until he had everyone's attention. 

"Let's go steal a tent."

He raised his hat, gave them a wide grin, and walked out.


	3. The Signature Challenge

Eliot shivered and pulled his beanie hat down over his ears. British Lucille was a ridiculously cutesy vintage delivery van; he'd last seen something similar carrying bullion in The Lavender Hill Mob. It had the production company's logo on the outside, Hardison's usual collection of screens and electronic things on the inside and, as far as Eliot could tell, no heating. He was grateful for Hardison's fingerless gloves, although he'd have been more grateful if Hardison had installed a heater. 

"It's freezing in here," he said. 

"Try being out here," Hardison said, through chattering teeth. 

"No leaving the van, Eliot," Nate said. "The mark can't know you're here."

Eliot could see Hardison on a screen patched into a camera feed: he, Parker, and the four other contestants were standing outside, snow swirling down, clutching umbrellas and waiting to walk the twenty yards to the Bake Off tent for the fifth time. Parker had her hands shoved deep in the pockets of her puffer jacket.

"Big smiles!" Sophie said, demonstrating. "Quiet on set!"

# # # 

**Five days earlier**

Eliot's spurs jingled. His boot heels clicked against marble tiles. Nate had insisted he dressed full cowboy, which he'd chosen to interpret as hat, boots, belt buckle and all the denim. 

He was turning heads.

"This ain't a cowboy joint," he muttered into the comms as he strode across the roof terrace. 

"Relax," Sophie said. "We want you to stand out."

London stretched out below him, in one of the most expensive views in the city. Around him, people sipped champagne or cocktails in their finest evening wear and watched to see what he'd do. A waiter materialised at his side. He bit back the urge to order a beer and took a glass of champagne from the waiter's tray, his eyes scanning the terrace in search of their mark. He spotted several notable items of jewellery, one KGB agent, three people wearing guns in shoulder holsters, and the most tastefully-decorated Christmas tree he'd ever seen.

"She's not here," he said.

"She's there," Hardison said. "I'm tracking her phone."

"Strut around," Sophie said. "Let her see you. She'll come to you."

"Are we sure she's in the market for a cowboy?" Nate asked. "Her usual type is elderly landed gentry."

"Oh, we're sure," Hardison said. "We're soooo sure. I've been through her search history and I am here to tell you there ain't thing one this woman likes as much as a man in cowboy boots."

Eliot strutted. He itched to hit someone. Instead, he kept his expression pleasant and sipped champagne, exchanging small talk with those he passed while careful not to get drawn into conversation. On his second circuit of the terrace he noticed someone sitting in the darkest corner, head bowed. She wore gold sequins and was half-way through a flight of shots. Eliot squinted. Was she crying?

"Uh, guys? Are you seeing this? I don't think she's having a good evening."

"Perfect," Sophie said. 

"That's cold, man," Hardison said. 

Eliot nodded. "Real cold."

"Just go and comfort her," Sophie snapped. 

Hardison's chuckle warmed Eliot's heart. He made sure to clatter his spurs as he walked towards the mark. She looked up. Her eyes widened. Eliot pulled a handkerchief -- one of his bandannas -- out of his back pocket, shook it out, and got on one knee to hand it to her. 

"Did one of these muckety-mucks insult you? Give me the word and I'll make them regret it." 

She took the bandanna and dabbed her eyes, smiling. "My very own knight in shining armour." She had a highly polished smile and smelt expensively floral. 

"I'm David." Eliot gave her his best sympathetic look. 

"I'm Jade," she said, smiling again. "And I'm celebrating." Her smile slipped. "I know it doesn't look like much of a celebration. I'd been turned down for a reality TV show, you see, but someone's dropped out so I've got a place. I should be thrilled."

Eliot's knee, pressed against the marble floor, twinged. He stayed silent. So, mercifully, did Hardison and Sophie. Jade sobbed.

"I don't know if I'm good enough," she said, burying her face in Eliot's bandanna. He stood, slid into the seat next to her, and put his arm around her shoulders.

"Don't worry about bitin' off more'n you can chew," Eliot said, to sniggers from Hardison, "your mouth is probably a whole lot bigger'n you think."

She leant into him. Her tears soaked his denim shirt. She stroked it, stilled when she felt the muscles underneath, then let her hand fall to his belt buckle. She traced its bull's head design. 

"Are you really a cowboy?" she asked, looking up at him through damp lashes.

He shook his head.

"Oil billionaire?" she guessed.

"Sorry, darlin'. Never even been to Texas."

"Tech billionaire?"

"No sort of billionaire. I'm just a little ol' pastry chef."

She sat bolt upright, tears forgotten, and threw her arms around him.

# # #

**The tent**

The director managed to get the six contestants into the tent, out of their coats, and into bright red aprons on the eighth take. Sophie manoeuvred Jade to one of the second-row kitchen stations, with Hardison to her right and Parker in front of her. A middle-aged white man with a beer belly, a young Chinese man, and an older white woman took the other stations. The hosts -- a short, round woman and a lanky vampire -- and the judges -- Nate and a grey-haired woman in an alarming necklace -- entered the tent. 

Eliot zoned out during the multiple takes needed to introduce Nate and get the competition underway. He closed his eyes. He hadn't had much sleep in the past few days, what with coaching Jade, creating recipes for her and Parker, and bickering with Hardison, who had refused his help. 

He woke up when the short host announced the first bake. 

"We'd like you to put your own spin…" she said. 

The lanky vampire took over the sentence: "...on that most chocolatey of Christmas traditions…"

They exchanged glances and spoke together: "...the Yule log."

"You have one hour," she said. "Ready…"

"...steady…"

"...bake!"

# # #

Eliot found himself warming towards the hosts. Sandi, the short, round one, had a wicked sense of humour combined with the ability to calm skittish contestants. Noel, the vampire, could be relied upon to appear whenever someone got stressed. Sophie and her crew raced around the tent making sure the contestants had the equipment and ingredients they needed. The contestants began to bond as they shared tips and mugged for the cameras. 

"Tell us about your Yule log," Nate said to Parker. Eliot saw Sophie wince at his German accent.

"I'm making a mint-flavoured sponge with chocolate buttercream," Parker said, adding green food colouring to her cake mix. 

"Not too much!" Eliot said. Parker kept pouring. She'd worn her elf outfit and seemed to want her cake to be the same dark green as her hat.

The woman judge -- Prue -- smiled kindly. "Mint and chocolate are a classic combination."

"Yes!" Parker said, stoppering the bottle of food colouring. "It'll look like a roll of twenty dollar bills. Cake and money are another classic combination. It's the perfect present!" 

Sandi looked at Parker with heart eyes. "You're very American," she said, admiringly.

# # #

**Cutaway: interview with Parker**

"My boyfriend encouraged me to enter," Parker said. She twirled her umbrella. The pompoms on her outfit bounced. "He always backs me up when I take risks. He makes me feel protected, even when I'm jumping off a skyscraper."

"Great metaphor for the Bake Off," the assistant director said.

**Cutaway: interview with Jade**

"I'm so lucky to be here!" Jade said. She wore a haute couture Christmas dress, inspired by the Nutcracker. "I made an utter mess of the audition." She smiled her polished smile to camera. "I never thought I'd make it into the tent."

**Cutaway: interview with Hardison**

Hardison huddled under his umbrella, muttering about frostbite. He was wearing a Christmas sweater knitted in the pink, purple and blue of the bi pride flag. 

"Action!" the assistant director said.

Hardison stood up straight. "Why did I enter?" He looked thoughtful. "My boyfriend. He's a brilliant cook. I wanted to show him he's not the only culinary genius in the family." He stared into the camera. "Can I go inside now?"

# # #

**The tent**

Eliot kept a watchful eye on Parker and Jade. Parker was his best hope of beating Hardison. After her rebellion over the food colouring she calmed down and followed Eliot's recipe meticulously. 

Jade had no chance of winning, but they needed her to keep it together until the showstopper round. If her signature bake went wrong she might flee the tent in tears and never go back. 

She managed to mix her cake without major mishap -- Sophie rushed a new block of butter to her when hers toppled off the edge of the bench and splatted onto the floor, and swiped the salt before Jade could use it in place of sugar. Eliot breathed a sigh of relief when Jade got her cake into the oven.

She turned away, reaching for the powdered sugar to make buttercream.

"Timer," Eliot said, knowing she couldn't hear. 

She sieved sugar into a bowl.

"Timer!" Eliot said. "Parker, cake emergency."

"What do you need?" Parker said.

"Set a timer for nine minutes and switch it with Jade's. Don't let anyone see."

Parker rolled her eyes at the nearest camera. She backed towards Jade's station, making a big deal of checking her own oven, then sat on the floor to see her cake better. She folded her legs into lotus position. 

"Come on Parker!" Eliot said. "Do the switch."

"It's done," Parker said, smug.

Eliot mashed keys until he managed to rewind and watch in slow motion. It took him three tries before he saw Parker's switch.

"That's my girl."

She gave the camera a thumbs-up. In the background, Noel commented on Hardison's wrist action.

# # # 

**The judging**

Eliot held his breath as Jade carried her bake to the front of the tent.

"It's a little rustic," Prue said. 

Classic British understatement. One camera zoomed in on the cake -- barely recognisable as a Yule log -- while another went for a close-up on Jade. Tears welled. 

"Nate," Eliot said, "say something."

Nate took a forkful of cake and ate it slowly, wearing an expression of deep deliberation.

"Come on, Nate," Eliot said.

Nate drew out his pause, knowing everyone was watching him. A single tear trickled down Jade's left cheek. Noel bounced on his toes, looking as if he wanted to run to Jade and cheer her up. Sandi held him back.

" _Nate!_ "

Nate put down his fork. "It looks something of a… how do you say it? A _dogs dinner_ , ja? The taste, however, is _wunderbar_."

Jade put her hand to her heart, and laughed in relief. The other contestants high-fived her as she walked back to her bench. 

Parker's money-roll Yule log went down well, with Prue declaring the decoration exquisite and Nate, coached by Eliot, complimenting the crumb.

Hardison placed his bake on the table. Everyone leaned in to get a better view. It looked exactly like a log -- the firewood sort, not the cake sort.

"Impressive chocolate work and airbrushing," Prue said. "I swear I'd mistake it for a piece of wood if I didn't know better. I'm not sure that's a good thing in a cake."

"Of course it's a good thing," Hardison said. "It's like a forgery. You want it to be perfect."

Sophie waved her clipboard. "We didn't get clear sound pickup on that line -- aeroplane passing overhead. Let's tape it again."

"Without mentioning forgery this time," Eliot said.

Hardison huffed. 

"And… action!" Sophie said.

"Of course it's a good thing," Hardison said. "I'm aiming for trompe-l'œil perfection." He held up his hand to halt Nate, who'd picked up a cake knife. "I need you to cut it right down the middle and then stand back."

"The mittle?" Nate said, gesturing off-centre with the knife. 

Hardison glared at him. "Right down the middle, Meister Benz."

Nate wielded the knife. As he cut the cake, a white gas escaped. The gas coalesced into a cloud, then gently dropped down as a sprinkling of snow. Everyone in the tent _ooooh_ -ed. The production team cheered. Prue cracked a smile. 

"That's very clever."

"Age of the geek, baby," Hardison said.

Eliot switched off his screen in disgust.


	4. The Technical Challenge

"Prue has set our Christmas technical challenge," Noel said. "Do you have any advice for the contestants before you and Meister Benz leave the tent?"

Eliot concentrated. Anything Prue Leith had to say about baking was worth listening to. Prue smiled at the contestants. 

"These should be pretty," she said. 

"Like you," Parker whispered to Eliot. He growled in response and ignored Hardison's snigger.

"That's not giving much away," Sandi said as Prue and Nate left. She waited until they'd gone before continuing. "Prue would like you to make nine lebkuchen, which is a traditional German Christmas cookie. Three should be round, three star-shaped and three heart-shaped; three should be glazed with icing, three covered with chocolate, and three should have delicate piped decoration. Have you got all that?"

The contestants laughed nervously, glancing at each other. The younger man stood up straight, putting his shoulders back and flexing his hands in preparation. Jade clutched her throat, fear on her face.

"You have ninety minutes, my lieblings," Noel said. " _Drei, zwei, eins... ihr backt!_ "*

Hardison studied the recipe, brow creased in concentration, and chatted to Sandi. Parker whisked a gingham tablecloth off her ingredients, prodded the orange suspiciously and lined everything else up in alphabetical order. Eliot watched through the camera feed. 

"Find a small saucepan, a large mixing bowl and a baking tray," he said. 

Parker raced to the other end of her station. Hardison didn't move. He made a note on the recipe.

"Damn it, Hardison, you too! You've only got ninety minutes."

Sandi strolled across to Parker, camera operator at her shoulder.

"Have you made lebkuchen before?"

"I've eaten them," Parker said. "My boyfriend made them last Christmas."

"That's what Alec said."

Parker beamed. "We have the best boyfriend!"

"Boyfriends," Hardison said. "Plural."

Sandi looked charmed, if a little confused. A crash distracted her.

"There aren't any measurements in the recipe!" Jade wailed. 

Parker turned as Noel swooped in to pick up both halves of the dropped mixing bowl and coax a smile from Jade by holding them together and wearing them as a hat.

"You're gonna have to do this out loud, Parker," Eliot said. "Put the oven on to preheat, one-eighty degrees, and ask Jade if she thinks that's the right temperature."

# # # 

**Three days earlier**

Eliot looked up and down the alley. The streetlights were broken, the security cameras pointed elsewhere and nothing moved except a black cat out on the prowl. He found the right stretch of wall and bent to give Parker a leg-up. She put her foot in his hands, hoisted herself onto the wall and leaped onto a tiled roof, arms spread wide.

"You'll need to be completely silent," Nate told her. 

"I know how to rob a bank vault," Parker said, throwing a grappling hook. She yanked to test it, jumped and swung out of sight. "Whoo-hoo-hoo!"

" _Silent,_ Parker."

"Power goes down in thirty... twenty-nine... twenty-eight..." Hardison said. 

"Sophie, you're up," Nate said. 

"You may be closed to other people," Sophie said. "However, I am the Duchess of Hanover and if I am not seen in the Lüneburg tiara tonight it will spark a diplomatic incident."

"...eighteen... seventeen..."

Eliot raced through the shadows, pulling a balaclava over his face.

"Do you wish to be responsible for that, young man?"

"...twelve... eleven..."

The front door of Marley's Bank stood open, spilling light across the wide steps leading up from the street. Sophie stood on the threshold, raising her aristocratic temper-tantrum to full volume. Eliot pulled out a Beretta 92F and scowled at it.

"I hate these things."

"It's a replica," Hardison said. "I borrowed it from a re-enactment guy I know."

"What sort of person re-enacts the 1980s?"

"A person who owed me a favour. Three... two..."

Eliot crouched, ready to run. 

"...go!"

The bank's lights went off. An alarm screamed. Eliot raced up the stairs, brandishing the pistol dramatically. Sophie shrieked, also dramatically. Eliot shot a blank into the air. The man she'd been talking to ducked and covered his head. 

"Is he security?" Eliot said, getting Sophie in a neck lock. She squealed and raked her fingernails along his biceps. "Sophie was distracting him just fine without me."

"Security's on their way," Hardison said. "Look up."

Eliot looked up. Six black-clad figures abseiled down the front of the bank. He gawped, releasing Sophie. "You've gotta be kidding me."

"Didn't you read my briefing?" Hardison said, sounding hurt.

"I thought it was one of your nerd jokes."

Sophie screamed and clutched his arm, doing a convincing impression of someone fighting to escape a focused and dangerous captor. He sighed and grabbed her again. The bank's security detail landed, detached their ropes and reached for their weapons.

Eliot swung Sophie round to shield him and backed down the stairs. She struggled, carefully moving her head to block the guards from getting in a kill shot. The guards conferred, one reaching for a walkie talkie. 

"Drop it," Eliot said, taking a bead over the guard's shoulder and shooting another blank. They dropped it. 

"I'm out," Parker said. "I had the _best time_."

A car screeched to a halt behind Eliot, door already open. Sophie stamped on Eliot's instep and elbowed him in the face. He dropped her to the sidewalk and dived into the car. Hardison put his foot down as the first bullets hit. They rounded the corner on two wheels. Eliot wrestled the door shut. Sirens wailed. 

"Is that Nate?" he asked, searching for the ambulance as he stripped off his balaclava and one layer of clothes, revealing a bottle-green paramedic's uniform. Blue flashing lights passed them and stopped. He and Hardison abandoned the car and piled into the back of the ambulance. Two minutes later they loaded a swooning Sophie onto a stretcher -- with all six security guards watching approvingly -- and drove away. 

# # # 

**The tent**

"Time to roll out your dough," Eliot said. "Keep telling everyone what you're doing."

Parker had been sitting on Hardison's counter, swinging her legs while he practiced his piping. He'd piped a snowflake in the palm of her hand. She licked it off, bounced down and made for the fridge, her steps as silent as always. 

" _Out loud_ , Parker."

"I'm going for it!" she called.

Around the tent, nervous contestants dithered. The beer-bellied man had already begun cutting out his cookies and was making a mess for the cameras, gamely attempting innuendos about his sticky mixture. Jade looked between him and Parker, terror on her face, and came to a decision. She followed Parker to the fridge they shared. 

"Tell her the cookies should be about an inch thick," Eliot said.

"My boyfriend's were about this size," she said, holding up thumb and forefinger. Noel elbowed Sandi off camera and they both corpsed.

Parker and Hardison got their lebkuchen into the oven without problems. Jade, keeping a close eye on Parker, followed suit. 

"Are we done?" Jade asked, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. She swayed and grabbed the bench for balance. She looked like she'd run a marathon.

"You need to prep the sugar glaze and the piping frosting," Eliot said. "Ain't no point melting the chocolate just now." Parker repeated it. 

"Sugar glaze?" Jade said, exhaustion in her voice.

# # # 

**Cutaway: interview with Parker**

"My favourite thing to bake?" Parker stared into the camera, eyes wide with panic. "I like pretzels."

**Cutaway: interview with Jade**

"I love shiny things," Jade said. She smiled and tilted her head. Her diamond earrings sparkled in the light. "Did you know you can use real gold as a decoration?"

**Cutaway: interview with Hardison**

"Bread is my favourite," Hardison said. "No question. I call my sourdough starter Lucille." 

"Did you inherit it?" the assistant director asked.

"What kind of anti-science question is that?" Hardison said. "No, I didn't inherit it. I used applied microbiology to science the shit out of--" he broke off as the assistant director signalled cut. "Am I not allowed to swear?"

"Let's try another take."

# # # 

**The tent**

Eliot had set up countdown timers for Parker and Jade. 

"Three minutes," he told Parker. 

She and Hardison were playing ping-pong with pie pans and a ball of leftover cookie dough. Parker was winning.

"Three minutes!" she announced to the tent. Hardison missed the cookie dough ball. Sandi ambled to Hardison's side and gazed down at it, squished on the floor. 

"You're making my job too easy," she said. "I get paid to make double ententres about irregular-shaped balls, but this really is low-hanging fruit." 

"Can you smell burning?" Parker said. "I think something's about to blow up."

"Not everything blows up, Parker," Hardison said, automatically, before remembering where he was. "My lebkuchen!"

He crouched to peer through his oven's glass door. Across the tent, bakers scurried to do the same.

The only exception was Jade. She was staring out of the tent's clear plastic side, watching a bird hop across the snow.

"Mine's ok!" Hardison said. 

"Mine too," Parker said, opening her oven a crack and sniffing. "It smells amazing."

"Something's definitely burning," Sophie said. She sped towards Jade. Two camera operators overtook her and the director gestured at her to stop. She halted. A line of black smoke rose from Jade's oven. Noel and Sandi hovered just behind the cameras. Jade remained oblivious.

"Eliot, set off the smoke alarm," Sophie said. 

Eliot stared at the keyboard. "How do I do that?"

"Open a terminal," Hardison said. "Control alt tee."

"In English, Hardison."

"Press the control key and the alt key and the letter T."

Eliot searched the keyboard, heart racing. Control key? What control key? If Jade didn't rescue her cookies soon it'd be--

An alarm went off. 

"Too late," Hardison said. 

Eliot looked back at the screens. The line of black smoke had turned into a billowing cloud. Jade ran to her oven, coughing as smoke engulfed her. Tears ran down her cheeks. She pulled out a tray of blackened cookies, threw them to the floor and ran towards the tent's doors.

"Don't let her escape!" Eliot said. 

Sophie stepped in front of Jade. "You can still do this."

"How?" Jade wailed. 

Noel bounded across. "It'll be alright. There's time to make another batch."

"You had some dough left," Sophie said. She barked instructions into her crew headset and got out of shot. Noel offered Jade a hug. Jade wept. Sandi let the camera film them for a few seconds before stepping in and calmly reeling off a list of curse-words to make the footage unfit for broadcast. 

"Whoa! Where did she learn words like that?" Eliot said. 

"I don't know what half of them mean," Hardison said.

"She's my favourite," Parker said. 

"I think you're her favourite, too," Eliot said.

Parker grinned then hid her face behind her hair. 

Production assistants milled around the set, finding Jade a clean rolling pin and cookie cutters. Noel led her back to her station. She wiped her eyes, splashed water on her face and found her mixing bowl.

"Ready?" Noel said. He stayed by her while she rolled out the spare cookie dough, cut out six cookies, had a minor wobble about not having enough dough for nine, and got them in the oven. 

"How long do they take?" she asked. 

"Fifteen minutes," said Eliot, via Parker. "But set the timer for twelve and keep an eye on them."

Jade sat down on the floor and stared into the oven. The other contestants conferred over her head and each made a bit more frosting than they needed. 

"Isn't this cheating?" Hardison said, melting extra chocolate. 

"It's part of Bake Off culture," Sophie said. Sure enough, Sandi and Noel turned a blind eye while all six contestants raced against the clock to make sure Jade's lebkuchen were iced and ready to judge, and the director went into raptures the moment they stopped filming.

# # # 

**The judging**

"Well," Prue said, walking the length of the judging table. "I can see some people have had problems."

Jade chewed her nails. 

"Let's start here," Prue said, stopping at Hardison's lebkuchen. "These are beautiful. Lovely glazes, lovely piping." She took a bite. "Mmm. Perfect mix of spices."

Nate nodded agreement, wisely speaking as little as possible. 

Prue moved to Jade's cookies. 

"We did say nine."

Tears filled Jade's eyes.

"And they hadn't fully cooled before decorating. Still, the piping is neat."

"Nice job, Parker," Eliot said. 

Prue tasted a cookie and physically recoiled, stepping back from the table and flapping her hand at her mouth. "Ginger," she croaked. Noel rushed a glass of water to her. "Much too much ginger. Did someone mistake the ground ginger for the ground almonds?"

Jade buried her head in her hands. 

"She's a waste of good ingredients," Sophie said.

Beer-belly man's lebkuchen were claggy and Nate declared Parker's " _Wunderbar_."

"I don't think this has ever happened before," Prue said, announcing the winners. "We have a tie on the technical. This one," she indicated Hardison's lebkuchen, "and this one." Parker's.

Parker whooped. Hardison jumped from his stool and swung her in a circle. 

"Oh, my," Sandi said, pressing her hand to her chest, overcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * "Three, two, one... bake!" in German. I hope. Unlike Eliot, I don't speak German. Leave me a comment if I've got it wrong and I'll fix it.


	5. The Showstopper

Eliot threw himself into the armchair in Hardison's room. He was wearing the hotel's front of house uniform -- navy waistcoat and tie, white shirt -- because he'd taken the traditional approach to sneaking in: fake room service delivery. He'd had to time it carefully so he didn't get caught. Parker had got there much earlier: she'd simply scaled the wall from her room to Hardison's and climbed in the window. 

Eliot's phone beeped again. He frowned at it. Jade had left the tent in tears after coming last in the Technical; she'd been messaging him non-stop since. She wanted to call. "Where is David the pastry chef supposed to be? Brunei?" He googled for the time difference. Eight hours ahead. "I should have gone to bed hours ago."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Hardison said. "Put that thing down."

"Says the man in bed with two laptops."

"Two laptops and me," Parker said. She'd made a nest out of the covers. "Why are you still looking at the laptops?"

"There's something wrong," Hardison said. 

"I think that was Parker's point," Eliot said.

"No, something wrong about the job. I can feel it." Hardison made a frustrated gesture. "But I can't work out what it is."

Eliot's phone beeped. He squinted at it. Jade wanted to know when David would next be in London, so she could schedule a visit. "What's Cratchit and Fezziwig?"

"Guardian T-813," Parker said. 

Eliot frowned at her. A what? 

"C&F is a bank," Hardison said. He flung his hands up. "And I can't see anything wrong with the plan."

Parker shut both his laptops, ignoring his protests, and moved them to the nightstand. She pointed at Eliot. "Your phone too."

Eliot sent a _goodnight_ message to Jade and switched off. He unknotted his tie, slipped it off and tossed it to Parker, who used it to blindfold Hardison. 

Hardison grinned and reached for her. "I love it when you gang up on me."

# # # 

The van the following morning was freezing, again. Eliot rubbed his hands together and blew on his fingers. He was starting to hate Hardison's fingerless gloves almost as much as he hated British Lucille. His screens gave him twenty views of the bakers putting on their aprons. 

"This year's Christmas showstopper challenge has been set by our guest judge, Konditor Meister Günther Benz," Sandi said. Nate mugged for the camera. 

Noel stepped forward. "Günther wants you to bake a Secret Santa cake. The cake can be a sponge or a fruit cake, and it should be beautifully decorated on the outside..."

Sandi took over: "...but the important thing is that there is some sort of seasonal surprise inside the cake."

"You have three hours. Ready..."

"...steady..."

"...bake!"

# # # 

Eliot leaned towards the screen and turned up the volume as the judges congregated at Hardison's kitchen station. Hardison had refused to reveal anything about his recipe.

"I'm making a baked Alaska Christmas cake," Hardison said. "Christmas spice ice cream in the centre, then a rich ginger cake, decorated with caramel baubles each containing a different scent."

"Are you sure you have enough time?" Prue said. "The cake will need to cool fully before you put the ice cream inside."

Hardison shook his head. "Imma bake the ice cream inside the cake. I've been researching the thermodynamics of baking and the insulating properties of various ingredients, going well beyond meringue, and--"

Hardison launched into a stream of technobabble. Eliot tore off his headphones in disgust. That wasn't how baked Alaska worked. He switched to Parker's private comms channel as the judges crossed to her bench. "Parker, we can't let Hardison win. I'm counting on you." 

"I've got this," she told Eliot.

"What is your Secret Santa cake?" Nate asked her, hamming up the German accent.

"It'll look like a present on the outside, all wrapped up with a bow, and the secret is that it has Santa inside."

"So the secret of your Secret Santa is a secret Santa?" Sandi said. 

Parker nodded, beaming. 

"I like it," Noel said. "Very literal."

They moved on to Jade, who was re-reading her recipe and looking nervous. 

"It's a mulled wine cake," she blurted. Eliot clenched his fists and willed her to keep her nerve.

Prue gave her a kind smile. "Tell us all about it."

Jade placed a large egg-shaped flask on the counter. It had small perforations in the top. "I'm going to fill this with red wine and spices, and put it inside my fruit cake. As the cake bakes, it will be infused with the steam from the wine, and when you cut the cake there will be a cup of mulled wine inside."

"That's a delightful idea," Prue said. "I love mulled wine."

Jade's shoulders relaxed. Eliot unclenched his fists. The judges moved on and Jade reached for her ingredients. Eliot had told her to prepare the wine first and she took his advice. She unscrewed the flask, filled it two-thirds full with Merlot, and added a muslin bag filled with mulling spices. Once she'd resealed the flask she set it to one side and concentrated on measuring out her cake ingredients.

# # # 

**The previous week**

Eliot screwed up his nose at the scorched-rubber smell coming from Hardison's workroom. He poked his head in. "You set something alight?"

Hardison pushed his safety goggles onto his head and scowled. "Do you know what happens to gems when they get heated?"

Eliot shrugged. "Depends on the stone. Maybe a colour change, maybe stronger asterism from recrystallisation of any inclusions."

Hardison stared, mouth open.

"What?" Eliot grinned. He loved doing this: surprising people with his knowledge. He was amazed he could still pull it off with Hardison. "Lots of fights happen over gemstones."

"Ain't gonna be any fights happening over these gemstones, not once I get the insulation right."

"You haven't got it right yet?"

"The thermodynamic situation inside a baking cake is complicated and by complicated I mean alarmingly non-linear."

"What about the wine flask? You done that? I need to get it to Jade."

Hardison looked hurt. "Of course. I said I'd have it ready, didn't I?" He handed over a sealed box printed with the logo of a specialist chefs' supplier. "Time to get your hat and boots on, cowboy, and go treat that woman real purty."

Eliot scowled.

# # # 

**The tent**

Eliot waited until Jade started chopping nuts, a skill she still hadn't mastered. All her focus was on her knife and he still worried she might lose a finger. He looked away. "Switch time. Sophie, keep the cameras away from Jade's bench."

Sophie moved in with her clipboard, clicking her fingers to get the camera operators' attention and directing them into various close-ups. Eliot checked his screen. None of the camera feeds showed Jade's wine flask.

"Parker, you're up."

"Done."

"Again? You're kidding me." He couldn't even check the camera feeds this time to see how she'd done it. "You are the best thief I know."

Parker photobombed Hardison's camera shot, cartwheeling. Sandi watched, smiling in admiration. Noel attempted a joke about upside-down cakes that didn't quite come off, but that made Prue laugh. The next forty minutes passed in a blur of mixing batter and filling cake pans. Eliot spent all of it all of it talking Parker through her recipe. Jade, entirely unsuspecting, put the swapped wine flask into her cake and into the oven. Eliot relaxed. Everything was over bar the big reveal at the judging.

He sat back, hands behind his head. 

Parker's work bench was piled high with unwashed mixing bowls. Her Santa design had needed a lot of different-coloured sponge cakes. She looked at them and moved to the end of Hardison's bench, swiping one of his mixing bowls to make her frosting. 

"Hey!" he said, lifting the bowl out from his ice-cream maker. His cake had yet to go in the oven. His bench was organised, equipment and pans laid out ready to use. Parker ignored his protest. Eliot watched her add glycerine to her frosting -- " _one_ teaspoon, Parker!" -- and tried not to look at the abomination Hardison was creating. Hardison finished working, slid his cake into the oven, and straightened. His eyes widened. He looked as if a realisation had struck him.

"C&F!" he said. 

"What's that?" Noel asked, appearing at his elbow. 

"Caramel." Hardison grabbed a bag of sugar. "I need to make my caramel baubles next."

Noel fought to keep his face straight. "I'm sure your caramel baubles will be very tasty."

"They are," Parker said. "I've tried them."

"Darlings," Sandi said, arriving with Prue, "if you're not careful this conversation will become so unfit to broadcast that every mention of caramel baubles will be cut."

"That would be a shame," Prue said. "I love caramel baubles."

"Don't we all," Noel said. "Let's leave Hardison alone to play with his."

Hardison stared at Prue, Noel and Sandi's retreating backs and spoke into his comm. "Sophie, why didn't you warn us how filthy this show would be?"

"I did," Sophie said. "I told you they'd make endless jokes about your buns."

"Joking about my buns is one thing. Joking about my caramel baubles is a different matter entirely."

He drew breath, ready to launch into a rant. Eliot interrupted him. "Hardison. You said C&W. What did you mean?"

"You said Jade wants to visit Cratchit and Fezziwig? She used to have a deposit box there, before she married Great-uncle Hal."

"I thought she used Marley's Bank?" Nate said.

"Her husband's family used Marley's Bank," Hardison said. "I've got a bad feeling about this. Eliot, I need to take another look at the account-holder details at Marley's. Do exactly what I say."

Hardison melted sugar while instructing Eliot on hacking into Marley's, and then tracing a chain of ownership through two dozen shell companies. Eliot waited, impatient, for for the final screen to load. "Charles Keddlewick. It says Charles Keddlewick."

" _Baubles!_ " Hardison swore. 

"Hardison? What does this mean?" Nate asked.

"It means we've been played. Charles stole the Fabergé egg, and we took it from his deposit box and planted it on Jade, just as he wanted us to."

"Why?" Eliot asked. "What does he gain if the egg ends up in a museum?"

"Jade will be disgraced," Nate said. 

"Does he hate her that much?" Hardison asked.

"The will!" Sophie said. "Is there a disrepute clause?"

"Eliot, we need to find the probate record," Hardison said. "You ready?"

Eliot sighed and cracked his fingers. "I hate typing. This is why I should be in the tent and you should be in the van. It's gonna be your fault if I get carpal tunnel."

# # # 

**Cutaway: interview with Parker**

"Do I bake for my family at Christmas?" Parker said. "I gave my boyfriend a gingerbread house the year he was working as Santa. That was the best Christmas ever!"

**Cutaway: interview with Jade**

"I used to bake for my husband," Jade said, dabbing her eyes with a holly-covered handkerchief, "before he--" She shook her head, seemingly overcome with emotion. The assistant director gave her a double thumbs-up and motioned to the camera operator to continue filming. 

**Cutaway: interview with Hardison**

"Yeah, we have a bunch of real good family Christmas traditions," Hardison said. "There was that time when my girlfriend decorated the tree with... um, I don't think I can tell you about that... and then my boyfriend.... uh, maybe I shouldn't... can I start again?" The assistant director looked confused, but nodded. Hardison stood up straight. "My Nana used to bake at Christmas..."

# # # 

Eliot stared at the screens. Nate was outside, mid-interview, with three cameras on him. Sophie was in a heated discussion with the production crew. Parker was answering questions from Sandy.

"Hardison, I don't know what this means," Eliot hissed. 

"Read it out to me," Hardison said. He'd turned his kitchen station into an alchemist's workshop, complete with flasks full of coloured liquids and Rube Goldberg glassware, and was filling his caramel baubles with fumes.

"It's lawyer talk," Eliot said. "All _heretofore_ and _the party of the second party_ and _actus reus_."

"Just read it out."

Eliot read it out. Hardison started swearing under his breath about half-way through. "I know why Charles played us. The will only gives him the Fabergé egg, unless Jade brings the family into disrepute. If she gets done for insurance fraud, he inherits the lot."

"So he burnt down the west wing...?" 

"...and left the fake evidence of the egg being destroyed. Yeah."

Eliot growled. "I'm going to kick his floppy-haired British ass."

"Won't help."

"It'll help _me_."

"We need to stop the con."

"We can't stop the con. The Fabergé egg is being baked inside a cake. It's not like Parker can swap it back out for the wine flask now. She'd burn herself and destroy the cake. We can't explain that away."

"So we need to stop Jade presenting the cake to the judges."

Eliot checked the camera feed. "How?! She's not going to burn it again: she's sitting on the floor in front of her oven, watching over it." He remembered her tears from the day before. "Also, I don't think we should put her through that again."

"We might not have a choice. A burnt cake is better than a prison sentence. We need to distract her." Hardison leaned across to look at Jade. Her focus on her oven was absolute. "It's going to have to be quite a distraction."

Eliot sighed. He could see where this was going.

"Remember her search history?" Hardison said. "Did you bring your cowboy boots?"

"Damn it, Hardison! David is supposed to be in Brunei."

Nate coughed and joined in the conversation, speaking for the benefit of his interviewer and the cameras. "I've invited a protégé of mine to join us for the judging. An up-and-coming pastry chef called David Sooners; he'll be here shortly."

"Damn it, Nate!" Eliot found his holdall and emptied out its contents, searching for a denim shirt and his boots. "Who's going to look after the van if I'm in the tent?"

A hubbub from the producer's huddle caught everyone's attention. Sophie, the back of her hand to her forehead, staggered dramatically. "No, I'll be fine." She dropped her clipboard. "I just need some fresh air..."

She fled the tent. 

A moment later she knocked on the back door of British Lucille. Eliot let her in, stripping off his t-shirt. 

"Hurry up," she said. 

"I'm hurrying." He pulled on the denim shirt and piled out of the back of the van. "I still can't believe we're going to make Jade burn her cake again. We're not normally this cruel."

"I've got a better idea," Parker said. "I know how to switch the flasks back."

# # # 

**The judging**

A small group of friends and family had been allowed in to cheer the contestants on. Second-cousin Chuck lurked behind them, trying to keep out of Jade's sight. In front of the cameras Eliot stood between Nate and Prue, arms crossed, and scowled as Prue cut into Hardison's cake. 

"Look at that," Prue said. "The ice cream in the centre is still frozen and the cake is perfectly baked. I didn't believe you'd carry it off."

Eliot pointed at the insulating layer between the ice cream and the cake. "Let's taste it before making any judgements. I'm not sure anyone wants expanded polystyrene in their cake."

Hardison raised an eyebrow. "It's salted caramel foam. I recommend you break one of the red caramel baubles and inhale the scent before taking a bite."

Prue smiled. "I've been looking forward to getting my hands on your caramel baubles." 

Eliot caught a whiff of orange oil. He took a forkful of cake. It tasted delicious: the ice cream spices blended perfectly with the caramel foam and the ginger sponge. He shook his head. "Too fussy."

"I disagree," Prue said. 

"As do I," Nate said. "This is _wunderbar_."

Parker was up next. Everyone in the tent _ooh_ -ed when her cake was sliced open to reveal a smiling Santa. 

The other contestants didn't produce anything to compete with either Parker or Hardison. Jade was the last to bring up her cake. Prue sliced it carefully, uncovering the flask in the centre. 

"How do I open this?" she asked.

"The top unscrews," Jade said. 

Eliot held his breath. They'd planned this moment as the big reveal: Prue would unscrew the flask and expose the Fabergé egg; Jade would be unable to explain it away; and Chuck would step forward to denounce her. Chuck bounced on his toes, ready to leap into action.

# # # 

**An hour earlier**

"You can't do that, Parker," Eliot muttered, hurrying across the parking lot to the tent. "No one could do that."

"She can do it, man," Hardison said. 

"She'll get burnt," Eliot said. 

"I'm right here," Parker said. "I've got this."

"All cameras over here," the director called, clapping her hands. "We need multiple shots of Chef Sooners' entrance."

"Chef Sooners?" said Jade, jumping to her feet. Eliot stepped into the tent. Jade raced across and threw herself into his arms. He picked her up and spun her.

"Great," the director said. "Love it, but we're going to have to do it again with different lighting. Chef Sooners, wait outside and come back in on my mark."

Eliot turned away. "Parker, turn up the temperature on Jade's oven so the cake burns."

"No need," Parker said. "I've done the switch."

# # # 

**The judging**

Eliot leant forward as Prue unscrewed the egg-shaped flask. He couldn't stop himself worrying. Parker always told them the truth, so if she said she'd switched the flasks, she'd switched the flasks. But, he couldn't figure out how. Replacing something inside a cake inside a scorching-hot oven took more than sleight-of-hand. 

"Don't you trust me?" Parker asked. 

Eliot put his hand over his mouth and turned away from the cameras. "With my life."

"So relax," Parker said. 

Prue lifted the lid off the flask, revealing a steaming cup of mulled wine. Eliot let out his breath in a sigh. Prue took a sip. 

"Delicious," she said, reaching for a cake fork to try Jade's cake. 

Chuck pushed forward to get a better look. He shoved a camera operator aside. "I don't understand."

"Charles?" Jade said, brow furrowed. 

A siren sounded. Blue flashing light filled the tent. Everyone turned to see two police cars pull up alongside a silver Bentley. Chuck froze. He darted glances at Nate and Eliot. They grinned back at him. 

"I wonder what they'll find in your trunk?" Eliot asked, taking Chuck's arm in a firm grip.

Prue, unfazed by the arrival of the police, calmly placed a bite of Jade's cake in her mouth. She chewed, then spat, her face contorted in disgust. The gobbet of cake landed at Sandi's feet.

"Water!" Prue croaked. 

Noel rushed to help. Tears streamed down Prue's face. She tried to speak, but only broken noises emerged. She gulped down a glassful of water and wiped her eyes. The director gestured frantically, sending camera operators to get coverage of Prue's recovery, Jade clapping her hands over her mouth in horror, and the other contestants looking aghast. The drama in the parking lot was forgotten. 

Chuck attempted to pull his arm free from Eliot's grasp. Eliot pulled him closer.

Prue coughed. Jade fell to her knees. Noel floundered, not knowing who to comfort. Sandi took charge. She picked up a crumb of Jade's cake and placed it on her tongue. 

"I'm no baking expert," she said, "but this cake is saltier than my jokes."

"Did you use the salt instead of the sugar?" Eliot asked Jade.

"I definitely put sugar in," Jade said in a small voice.

"What about flour?" Prue asked.

All the cameras swung towards Jade. She swallowed. Eliot used the opportunity to march Chuck towards the parking lot.

"Look at her," Chuck said. "She's a moron! She doesn't deserve my money."

Eliot jabbed his elbow into Chuck's side. He doubled over. Eliot wrenched him upright and got him outside. "She's a nice young lady who doesn't deserve you ruining her life." He put up a hand to get the nearest police officer's attention. "What are you doing to my friend's car?"

"It's your car, sir?" the police officer asked Chuck. One of his colleagues had popped open the trunk and was taking photographs of its contents. "I need to ask you to accompany us to the station to answer a few questions."

Eliot handed Chuck over, brushed his hands off, and went back into the tent just as applause erupted. Hardison and Parker both jumped up and hugged.

"Who won?" Eliot asked. No one answered him. Parker spotted him and dragged him into a three-way hug. Hardison kissed him.

"Well, that explains a lot," Sandi said. 

"But who won?" Eliot said.

A police car outside drove off with Chuck in the back.

"Justice won," Sophie said, over the comms.

"Seriously, guys," Eliot said. "Tell me who won."

Parker and Hardison looked at each other and grinned. 

"Who do you think won?" Hardison asked. 

He scowled at them both while he thought it through. They'd tied in the technical, Hardison's molecular gastronomy fuckery had impressed everyone in the Yule Log challenge and no one would shut up about about his caramel baubles, but Parker's cakes had tasted good and her designs had been fun.

"Parker," he said. "I reckon Parker's got this."

Parker nodded. "I couldn't have done it without you."

"I was robbed," Hardison said. "Two against one isn't fair."

Eliot leaned in close. "I thought you liked it when we gang up on you?"

"You realise the comms are still on?" Sophie said, over the sound of Nate choking on his own spit. 

"Then switch them off," Eliot said. "We've got things to celebrate here."

"Merry Christmas!" Parker said.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Leverage fic and I had tremendous fun with it -- hope you enjoyed it too! I love comments so please do leave one :)
> 
> I'm [bazinmousqueton](https://bazinmousqueton.tumblr.com/) on tumblr too.


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